


One Night In September

by SisterPuce



Category: Fringe
Genre: Anal Sex, Babies, Babysitting, Bathing/Washing, Crazy visions of the future, Despite the tags it's rather tame, Disturbing Themes, Donald hotness, Drug Use, Fluff, M/M, Male Slash, Memory Loss, Nudity, Psychotropic Drugs, Romance, Slash, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 11:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SisterPuce/pseuds/SisterPuce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Walter takes another one of his hidden drugs, Blue Button and dreams of faded memories and hallucinations of his life with Donald/September. Oneshot. Features slash and sexually suggestive themes (Non-explicit). Characters: Walter. William Bell, Baby Etta, Donald, Astrid and a mention of Peter. Pairing: Walter/September-Donald. Walter/William Bell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Night In September

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy my little oneshot. I wrote some of it before the 4th season came out in a disc set. It was a late Chrismas present for all of you Fringie slashers, out there. It's a little trippy and wrought with flashbacks.
> 
> Disclaimer: I'm making no money from this, nor claiming to own the series/characters on which it is based, so don't sue me.

'Twas one night in September, my beloved spouse

In my loins, there was burning a fire he would douse

Soulbound forever yet I was unaware

that, sometime, past or future, he'd had auburn hair

~A poem by Walter Bishop

* * *

Covered in flakes of dried cannabis, Walter awoke in the examination chair in the ambered lab of the Kresge building. The cookie tin that he had stashed the marijuana in had overturned and the ziplock bag spilled out its inestimable contents. Walter squawked and hooted, collecting all that he could in a panic.

"A-Ah-Asepsis!" He called out.

"Where's the dustpan?!"

No one answered.

"Ascocarp...?"

The harassed young woman must have stepped out while her charge slept to pick up supplies.

Alone at last.

* * *

"Eureka!" Walter cried. In his hands he held a ceramic statuette of a long-necked feline, painted with creeping, indigo ivy. Gently, he swept the dust from its Siamese face. Walter whispered a wish, squeezing his eyes shut before up-turning the statuette and rocking a rubber cork out from the hole in its bottom. After some effort, it popped out with a hollow thoop and a few cotton balls followed that had been previously packed neatly inside. Walter took the LED flashlight and shoved it in his mouth to free his hands, pulling out stray cotton balls to unearth the prize. And there it was. The beautiful, beautiful bottom of a Boston dropper bottle, filled with a bondi blue liquid that he and Belly had hidden those many years ago

* * *

 

"William Bell!" crowed his equally wasted friend. "In all my days, I never pegged you for anything other than a cynic!"

"Oh, now I wouldn't go that far!" Bell replied and they both broke out in ridiculous snickers and snorts. "Shall we?"

"Let's."

Painstakingly, Walter drew the dropper from the mouth of the bottle and filled the tea-spoon that William held close to his lips. The tincture filled his friend's nostrils, thick and almost sickening. But all Bell said was "Head's up."

Walter watched him recoil as the astringent fluid passed over his taste buds before preparing a dose for himself on the same spoon. "Not bad," Bell wheezed, "Not good, either." Walter's sentiments, exactly. "Perhaps I should have mixed it with some tea."

It didn't take long before they were running up and down the steam tunnels, beneath Harvard, stripping off their clothes and screaming with joy. Their arms flew around one another and curiosity was satiated for the time being, from amity to fumbling libidinousness and back to amity again. Falling in and out of sleep. Never mind the after effects. The sound of bare feet padding across concrete and badly sung songs could be heard by a scant few who were unlucky enough to be situated next to a ventilation duct. And in one of those ducts is where they hid a stash of that emancipating elixir.

* * *

With a fond, sad smile, Walter uttered it's name "Blue Button..."

A concoction of Salvia, Panaeolus subbalteatus, Conocybe cyanopus, Bhang, Sinicuichi, Calea zacatechichi, Kratom, Ikhathazo root and San pedro cactus.

He felt so, so alone now, in the cold and stark future with only the ghosts of the past to keep him company.

Slowly, he returned to his examination chair. He hadn't been gone long. A half hour, perhaps. It didn't matter now, anyway. He was already feeling the effects of the dosage of Blue Button he had taken a few moments before lying down. It had tasted a lot worse than he had remembered... and had become slightly viscous. He started to feel excited and calm at the same time. It was hard to describe. His heartbeat began to beat faster and faster, but that wasn't something new to him. Walter knew that, if he closed his eyes, things would go a lot easier and he'd probably sleep, again. With any luck, he might remember something about that elusive Donald or something else important. But if not, what did it matter?

* * *

The branches creaked out of the 2nd story window of the old Bishop house. Walter had fallen asleep as he soaked in the bathtub, slowly slipping beneath the surface. He erupted, sputtering from the warm water, blowing it from his nasal passages. Something white caught his attention. An Observer was perched in the tree, just outside. Peering in.

Surely, it couldn't be another hallucination. Walter hadn't imbibed in any psychotropics for two days.

The water sloshed as he carefully stepped out of the tub, squinting to see if his ghostly visitor was indeed his friend. It was.

"September!" Walter exclaimed, grinning ear to ear before un-latching the window and chortling as the cool breeze hit his lower extremities. "Is something wrong?" He asked since the Observers usually appear, or contact a person, before some dire event and this one in particular was a herald of woe.

"No," answered the gentleman in the suit.

"Nothing?" Asked Walter.

"There is no occurrence of significant importance in this location as we speak," answered September as he set foot upon the linoleum floor. Walter sighed in relief. "Oh! Then to what do I owe this honor?" His friend cocked his head. "I am here to see you."

"Ah! A social visit. How pleasant. Come, I'll see if I can't get you something to warm you up." Walter led him out and down the stairs, leaving the tub un-drained.

* * *

"It's good to have company. I haven't seen a soul all day, save Aspartame this morning. She's visiting her father. He has the flu, as I understand. Peter left a note, saying that he was going to check something out and called back in the evening with some fiction about taking Olivia to go bowling. I know they've probably gotten some seedy hotel room. Why do they have to leave me in the dark? If they're engaging in coition, It's my business!"

September simply listened to the dissatisfied creature as he sat at the kitchen counter, grasping an untouched mug of hot chocolate. Walter stopped and quizzically glanced at his companions neglected beverage, thinking about how he may need to brush up on his hosting skills.

"Dr. Bishop, may I ask you a question?"

"Of course!" Walter beamed, using a paper towel to remove excess water from his back before his friend put to him the question, "Why is it that you were dreaming of a scenario in which I accompanied you in the bath?"

Walter choked. "My god, you saw my dream?!"

"Yes. Does the action of using a washcloth on another being's posterior have some kind of importance to you?"

"...The things you must see..." Walter said enviously with flush cheeks. September was not amused. "You did not answer my question."

"Oh... it was just a dream."

"Why would you wish to discover whether or not I have hair covering certain parts of the surface of my body?"

All of a sudden, Walter's perspective became hazy, obscuring all that surrounded it but for September. In fact, the doe-eyed observer seemed to be pulling closer into view with startling clarity.

"Because I do," Walter answered succinctly, "I want to know what's under those clothes, so come on."

With an eerie snap, the man opposite tilted his head and blinked in blank confusion "Walter... Why ask a question that you already know the answer to?"

* * *

"Hey, look who's here!" Walter said to the little bundle in his arms and a chubby hand reached out towards the visitor. A handsome man with stubble on his chin and a hawk nose extended his index finger and the infant grasped it with a gurgle. "Hello, little lady."

"She looks so much like Peter, doesn't she?" Walter asked, proud tears welling up with the flush in his cheeks. Donald nodded. "Here, you can hold her."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure!" Her grandfather giggled and carefully placed her in Donald's safe arms.

"What's this? Who's this little monster?" Donald asked of the baby, teasingly. She ignored him, deciding to blow spit bubbles and look at the trees before absently grabbing his finger and gumming it. "Looks like the monster's going to eat me."

"She's been teething on everything. Haven't you, Etta? You know, I don't think they feed her enough. She's too skinny. Not like Peter was." Walter stepped over and fussed with the snaps on her onsies and took her without warning from the worried man before lifting her lovingly in the air. "Let's get some ice cream with uncle Donald, yes?"

"Be careful..."

* * *

The sound of Donald's seat-belt whirring back around the retractor made Walter aware that he was in the passenger seat of a car. Apparently, a parked Suzuki samurai with a wind jammer. "Here we are," Donald said cheerfully despite the ominous mood in the night air. "I'll pick you up at 3, okay?"

"O-okay," Walter replied softly, confused by his whereabouts and a sudden warmth rushed over him. The warmth of human proximity intensified. And a kiss, searing, succulent and camphor-scented. It was but a peck yet it felt so long and through it, Walter was no longer aware of where he was...

* * *

He could feel September loom over him as he dug at the bottom of the pit. It wasn't even 5 feet deep, yet and he has a long way to go. "Could you lend a hand?!" Walter spat in frustration. The languid eyes of his friend smiled. "You okay? That was quite a tumble."

"I'm fine! Quit worrying so much. I got it, didn't I?" Walter found himself saying, noticing that his joints ached quite badly. He felt dried mud tighten his face. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten here as he walked with Donald. He felt something in his hand and found a cluster of maroon and yellow mushrooms and dirt clods. Two-colored bolete.

All of a sudden, things went fuzzy and it was a though Walter had blacked out for less than a second and woke to the sour expression of his friend as they stood in the foray of an apartment complex.

"God, Walter," Donald said, obviously disappointed in him. "You don't remember anything?"

"No! I remember!" Walter defensively answered and secretly added, "At least, I think I do..." A cold breeze blew past them and Walter's nose began to run. He shamelessly dragged his sleeve under his nose and saw Donald's eyes widen. But where Walter thought that he'd find repulsion, he found only concern.

"What?" Said Walter, adjusting his Donegal cap before Donald took his sleeve and showed him the blood stains.

* * *

The smell of sea food brought Walter back from wherever he had gone. He found himself in front of an oven with a spatula in hand. Mushrooms had been cut in half and were grilling in the skillet before him. Lobster mushrooms? It had been a while since he'd had them.

He felt odd and a bit constricted before realizing that he was wearing a much tighter cardigan than he was used to and where was his apron? A pair of pale hands crept snuggly about his torso and he looked over his shoulder to meet the face of Donald, again. "Donald! How nice to see you."

The man smiled knowingly "Hello, how are you?"

"I don't know" He answered placidly and Donald just sighed, interlacing his fingers below the scientific researcher's breasts. Softly and awkwardly, Walter cleared his throat. Warm breath made goosebumps along the curve of his spinal column before those pale hands snaked out from under his arms and made their way to a bottle of cooking sherry that rested in a stand next to some olive oil. Walter felt a twinge of relief and regret. What on earth was he supposed to feel? Donald placed the sherry next to the stove top and Walter watched his face get closer and closer _ making his eyes cross - until a light kiss met his lips. When Donald pulled back, Walter's face was utterly guileless and red as a beet. With a cunning grin, Donald kissed him once again, tugging his collar and sucking his sinewy bottom lip into his mouth. Walter closed his eyes clutching the back of the man's head, expecting to feel a smooth scalp and grasping a lock of hair, instead. Walter struggled to keep balance and accidentally placed his fingers on the rim of the skillet. "MMM!" He broke away. "Damn and blast!"

"Here," Donald muttered before dabbing a Q-tip that had been soaked in some evil-smelling fluid on the burn. "Big baby."

"I am not. I just don't like burns on my hands. They sting like the devil."

* * *

Spasmodically, Dr. Bishop yawned, stretched and felt his bones pop. God, it's bright out, He thought while staring up at an open window. Billowing, chiffon curtains brushed against his bare leg. He propped himself up on his elbows with the feeling that he was not alone. Walter's stomach gave a lurch as he gazed upon the man swathed in the sheets that he shared and blinked wetly before backing up against the wall. A sharp pain stopped him cold. No... deliberately, he slid his trigger and middle finger between his legs and pushed his sphincter immediately feeling a rush of pain. That man plundered my ass!

Donald had felt him move about and turned onto his back. He looked so peaceful and... fetching... and Bishop felt oddly at ease. That is, until those Xanadu grey eyes popped open and smiled once more at him. "Hey."

"Hello, Donald."

"Come here."

"W-why?"

"I want to hold my husband," replied Donald with an affectionate, drowsy purr. Walter's mouth gaped. "We're married?!"

"NOO! Ha ha. Silly," Donald took his hands and pulled him closer. "I just call you that, remember?"

"No."

"Oh, what am I going to do with you?" The younger man chuckles and wraps his arms about Walter's strong, broad back. There was something so right about what was happening. Something so comfortable and familiar. It felt okay to kiss the man who laid beside him. The same man who saved his son in another time and place. The same man who has aided and protected him and his family of ever since and perhaps before. It was all that he could do to thank him. But that's not the only reason to do it. Walter felt something for him, even though he couldn't remember exactly who he was. Everything was exactly as it was supposed to be.

* * *

"Walter?" said a little voice. "Walter? Are you okay?"

"Donald?"

"No, Walter" Astrid told him as he lay on the floor. He must have fell off of the examination chair. "You've been out for 4 hours. I just went to pee and you were gone." She checks his forehead, kneeling beside him with a damp towel. Abruptly, Walter seized her and showered her cheeks with wet smooches. "Walter!? Wha-?!" She pushed him away, amused but shaking her head. He finally saw her though the fog "Oh, it's you, Ascarid. What are you doing in our bedroom?"

"Nothing. I was just leaving," Astrid said casually with the decision to play along. She was a pro at this, obviously. Whatever he was going through or hallucinating, it would pass. When she went to pick up the towel she had dropped, Astrid saw that he had a hard-on and let out a weary sigh. "Walter. Come on, Walter. You've got to stand up."

"Why? Where are going?" He mumbled as Astrid tried to pull him up by his arms "I don't feel very well."

After she managed to stand him up, Walter swayed uneasily on his legs and paused before moaning "Ohh, nno..." and quickly lunged forward as he regurgitated eggstick and grape redvines all over the lab floor. "Oh, Walter..." Poor Astrid held her hand to her chest "Sit down. I'll go get the mop."

"I guess those mushrooms didn't agree with me."

"Is that what you're on? Where did you find mushrooms?" She asked as she walked past him.

"Why, in the forest, of course. Donald and I found a cluster of hen of the woods!"

"When did you go to the forest?!"

"I'm his husband, you know."


End file.
